


Switch (Extended Play mix)

by frogfarm



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, BFFs, Bodyswap, F/F, Fade to Black, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Screenplay/Script Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 20:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: When the impossible happens, Daria realizes logic can't solve everything.Post-"Is It College Yet?". To be more precise, October of Quinn's senior year.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just a sucker for romance, with the emphasis on 'suck'. The screenplay format has always kind of bugged me, but it also appeals to a procrastinator like me who's always been better at dialogue than the stuff that connects it all together. My first time posting anything in this format, and probably the last.  
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>> _"Everything I wanted to do has already been done. I wanted to write something meaningful. I can't write anything at all."_  
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DEGA STREET, a busy Saturday night. DARIA and JANE walk together, Jane looking occasionally at something other than where she's going, Daria exhibiting a bloodhound's single-mindedness as they stride down the street. QUINN trails a few steps behind, looking around at the sights and people with a mix of trepidation and curiosity.

JANE: Refresh my memory. Why did we let your sister join our gang?

DARIA: I was too shocked to say no when she asked?

JANE (shrugging): You know, you're allowed to be nice to her. I won't call you soft. 

DARIA: Soft had nothing to do with it. She said she wanted to go shopping, but she was tired of going to the same old places.

JANE: She *does* know most of these stores don't take credit cards?

DARIA: Don't worry about it. (in a more controlled voice) She's been saving those Governor's Park paychecks. Dinner's on her.

JANE: If she's willing to be seen with us. (looking over her shoulder, and raising her voice slightly) So, Moriarty. We meet again.

QUINN walks more quickly, catching up with them.

QUINN: This is already weird enough, Jane. Please don't make it weirder.

JANE: Normally that'd be a clear invitation, but you remembered my name. You may live.

DARIA looks away as they continue to walk. Across the street, a large crowd is clustered around Axl's Piercing Parlor, a number of the freshly modded showing off while more wait to get inside. QUINN shudders as she catches sight of one particularly interesting mod.

QUINN: Ewww! (catching herself and looking away, lowering her voice) God, who would want to do something like *that* to their body?

JANE: Why don't you ask? I'm sure he'd be happy to share. In excruciating detail.

QUINN (looking suspiciously at Daria, out of the corner of her eye): I'd rather ask someone about a certain *other* piercing that just happened to conveniently disappear when their *parents* found out.

DARIA (more annoyed than her voice lets on): Give it a rest. Even if I *was* stupid enough to do something like that --

JANE: You don't have to say anything, kid. Just smile for the jury. 

DARIA (sending an irritated glance at Jane): -- I wouldn't be stupid enough to admit it. Even after the statute of limitations has expired.

QUINN looks away, opting for dramatic silence.

DARIA (lowering her voice, a little vehement): Quinn, I thought we were over this high school BS.

QUINN (resentful): Maybe *you* guys are, but *some* of us are still stuck there. And I heard what you said about my paychecks. (Daria flushes slightly; Quinn continues, sounding more resentful.) Mom and *Dad* said they were *proud* of me for saving all that money *and* keeping up with my schoolwork. I'm not asking you to kiss up to me, but why do you have to keep tearing me down?

DARIA looks away, obviously uncomfortable.

JANE: Oh look, it's Osseus Labyrint. I simply *must* have them autograph my ampallang. (walking over to the pawnshop door and opening it) Meet me inside when you're all bickered out.

QUINN looks at the ground as the door shuts, waiting for Daria to blow up for driving off her friend. Daria looks increasingly uncomfortable.

DARIA: Look. It's not that I don't respect your newfound work ethic, or your even more astonishing scholastic achievements --

QUINN: See, there you go again! What's so freaking 'astonishing' about getting good grades? (Placing her hands on her hips and glaring at her older sister, she realizes that Daria has actually grown just enough so that their eyes are now at the same height.)

DARIA: If it's any consolation, my senior year sucked too. (beat) Okay, they all sucked. But that was the worst.

QUINN (still simmering): How would *you* know? You've been a brain your whole *life*. (looking away, sounding less confident) Damn Fashion Club.

DARIA (confused): What about them? Hasn't your merry band of makeup mercenaries been disbanded?

QUINN (looking too dejected to bother rising to Daria's bait): Oh, Stacy and I still hang out. (aggravated) Sandi and Tiffany are being held back, but they'd rather *complain* than try to improve their grades. I *tried* to make the effort, but it's just not worth it to be around them --

DARIA: And as the only one with a steady job, you probably got sick of picking up cheeseless pizza for four. 

QUINN looks offended for a split second, then sighs, looking around the street again. The line outside the Zon stretches down the block, mixing into the crowd at Axl's. Daria regards her sister for a moment.

DARIA: I'm sure I've seen this regressive behavior before. Like every time you're forced to confront a new experience.

QUINN (bitterly): *Nothing's* new to you. Nothing new under the sun, and all that. (beat) *Does* the sun ever shine in your world?

DARIA (refusing to rise to the bait): I thought we agreed that underneath that bouncy hair lies a very competent brain. (beat) And I hope you aren't offended if I say your intelligence continues to surprise me.

QUINN (quietly): We both know who's smarter, Daria.

DARIA (stiffly): Part of me has waited a lifetime to hear those words. The rest just wants to smack you out of this uncharacteristic funk. (Quinn looks fearful as Daria sighs.) And Mom delicately inquiring about *my* job prospects didn't do a lot to endear me to your success. But since you obviously care -- (looks away) I'm proud of you.

QUINN sounds near tears, causing a startled Daria to look back at her.

QUINN: And part of *me* has always wanted to hear *those* words. But that's just it. (sniffles) I feel like a complete fraud.

DARIA: Um...

QUINN (going off on the bubbly semi-rambling tangents she's famous for): I mean *sure* I'm passing all my classes, but I'm *barely* passing some of them. And don't get me wrong, I like my job, but hostessing is *not* something you make a career out of. Unless you want to end up with *horribly* swollen ankles --

DARIA (trying to butt in gently, an 'oh dear god' look on her face): Quinn.

QUINN: The *point* is, *you* don't need some menial food service job or whatever.

DARIA: Tried it, didn't agree with me. Although that rash of yours was almost worth the trauma.

QUINN (eyes narrowing): Daria...

DARIA: Sorry. (beat) Really. (Quinn appears mollified. Daria glances inside the pawnshop window and sees Jane handing over some cash.) Okay, two questions. Why did you want to come shopping *here*? And what exactly did you mean by '*you* don't need a job'? (Quinn looks torn, and Daria gives in.) All right, I'll make it easy. First question first.

QUINN (obviously embarrassed): I just wanted to try something different, but not *too* different. So I thought I'd go someplace I'd never shopped at before, some place that wasn't...you know...popular. (A nervous laugh.) Kind of silly and shallow, huh?

DARIA: Well, I comfort myself by buying books. I'm not throwing any stones here.

QUINN: No *wonder* your room looks like a library.

DARIA: You know what one looks like? (Quinn glares at her, but softens as she sees the tiny smirk on Daria's lips. She's almost relaxed as Daria continues.) Now, the second question.

QUINN (trying to formulate a response): Well, um...Jane! (She is saved as Jane exits the pawnshop, to the accompaniment of the door's jingling bell.) Did you find anything? 

JANE strides over to them, an antique pendant of jade and silver hanging from her neck. 

JANE: It *did* cost some skin off my knuckles. But the countess's teeth will never be the same. (holds up the pendant) You like? 

QUINN: Oh, it's *beautiful*! But it would look even *better* if you weren't wearing red. Or at least not such a bright red, or maybe a fuschia though I don't see *that* happening any time soon. Or more black, black is always good... (trailing off at the sight of Daria's face, which doesn't look happy any more)

JANE (sensing the tension): So I got the last one. There's plenty of wedding gowns to fight over.

DARIA (to Quinn, more weary than cold): But it doesn't help when you revert to inanity at the drop of a hat. Excuse me. Peacock-feathered hat.

QUINN (getting angry again): Dammit, Daria! Even *Stacy* has more respect for me! At least *she* understands my problems!

DARIA: What problems? You're doing better than ever before. Are you *trying* to sabotage yourself with negative thinking?

QUINN (bitterly): Why not? I have *you* for a role model.

JANE: Hey, I think I found the hidden release switch. Anyone want the cyanide?

QUINN and DARIA both turn glares on JANE.

JANE (weakly): I'm sure it still has a shelf life.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S ROOM, looking cleaner than usual, or at least emptier. JANE is rummaging through her closet, pulling out clothes and tossing them in a pile next to an open, empty steamer trunk. DARIA walks in, shuts the door behind her, walks to the bed and falls face down in the pillows.

JANE (not turning around): Still not speaking?

DARIA (muffled): I've already said too much. (beat) Some vacation.

JANE: You said you came to see me. Why should you care if Quinn gives you the silent treatment?

DARIA: Try concealing that false cheer. It's counterproductive to your goal.

JANE (pulling out a red dress and surveying it critically): I hope you don't think *I'm* trying to guilt you. (tossing the dress into the pile)

DARIA: Because I'm doing a perfectly good job myself?

JANE: Do I really need to say it?

DARIA rolls over, staring up at the ceiling.

DARIA: (giving in the urge to vent): I *tried* to be nice and understanding, and look where it got me. Quinn's so convinced that she'll never amount to anything, I can't say one word without her putting some kind of negative spin on it.

JANE: What did you expect? She's still learning all those shocking truths you and I resigned ourselves to years ago. (looking at Daria) Where is little Miss Muskrat, anyway? That living room TV gets pretty boring after a while.

DARIA: You mean the one that doesn't work.

JANE: Well, it's more exciting since I turned it into a terrarium.

DARIA (actually turning her head to look at Jane): No aquarium?

JANE: Lizards are harder to kill just by feeding them. Or not.

DARIA looks back at the ceiling, which Jane takes as a cue to leave.

JANE: I better make sure she's not liberating the animals again.

JANE walks to the top of the stairs and stops, a puzzled look on her face as she hears faint murmurs coming from downstairs. Poking her head downstairs, she spies Quinn on the living room couch -- with Trent sitting beside her, sitting upright instead of in his usual 'laid back' pose, and from the look of it, having an actual conversation. Jane immediately ducks back and quietly retreats down the hallway to her room. Daria looks up as Jane shuts the door behind her.

DARIA (reading something in Jane's expression): No, wait, don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.

JANE: She's talking to Trent.

DARIA (eyes slightly widened): Okay, I never would have guessed *that*.

JANE (seriously, no teasing): Jealous?

DARIA (only vaguely annoyed): I thought *we* were over this high school BS.

JANE (holding up her hands): You never know. Just trying to cover all bases. (walking over and sitting down again)

DARIA (looking back at the ceiling): I guess whatever makes her happy.

JANE: Any reason you can't *both* be happy? 

DARIA (biting back a sarcastic retort): I don't know. Maybe I'm just not comfortable having another pessimist in the family.

JANE: So even though you're not the Misery Chick, it's *her* responsibility to remain perky in the face of adversity. (Daria glares at her, but it softens at the look on Jane's face) All I'm saying is, it *probably* won't kill you to be a little more supportive. 

DARIA: I'm sure my lucky Irish heritage will even the odds.

JANE (ignoring Daria's sarcasm from long years of practice): And if she's willing to let those walls down, maybe you guys could spend some time together. You and I are still gonna see each other after I go to BFAC --

DARIA: Are we?

JANE (forging ahead): -- but without the fashionistas, she's probably so panicky she hasn't even started looking at colleges. (remembering something else) And that whole Lindy deal had to have been a real confidence booster. Whatever happened with that?

DARIA (slowly, just now realizing this): I never asked.

JANE: So, give it a try. (Daria sighs) And what other hungry little bunnies are gnawing at your soul?

DARIA: Though it pains me to say it, I have to admit there is possibly a tiny bit of jealousy.

JANE: Atom-sized?

DARIA: Quark-sized.

JANE: But none the less tangible. (Admiringly) There's hope for you yet.

A knock is heard on the door.

JANE: Yo.

The door opens, revealing TRENT. 

TRENT: Hey, Daria.

DARIA (blushing even though she's looking at the ceiling) Hey.

TRENT: I'm giving your sister a ride home. She's kind of upset.

DARIA (reminded of reasons to be depressed): Yeah. Thanks.

TRENT: You should talk to her sometime.

DARIA (now embarrassed *and* depressed): Umyeahokay.

TRENT (to both): Later. (shuts the door)

DARIA: I think I'm being tag teamed. Is this what they call a two-Lane highway?

JANE: That was so lame. (beat) You *are* worried about her.

DARIA: Maybe I can hide it by severing the nerves in my face.

JANE: And this quark of remaining interest in Trent?

DARIA: Uh...

JANE: C'mon. Remember that honesty thing that was working out so well for us.

DARIA (deadpan): Yes, Ann Landers, I have no more interest in a romantic relationship with your brother. I have made my peace with the fact that he and I are in no way compatible over the long term, and have consigned my schoolgirl crush to the dustbin of history where it belongs.

JANE: So it's devolved into a purely physical attraction.

DARIA (looking down, blushing more furiously than ever): And how.

JANE (blinking, holding out her arm): Pinch me. Or say that again.

DARIA reaches out and pinches.

JANE (rubbing her arm): Ow!

DARIA (not totally convincing): Sorry.

JANE: Help me pack. It'll keep us *both* distracted.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S ROOM, later. The closet is bare and suitcases stuffed to the bursting point; the only remaining furniture are Jane's bed and desk, as well as the sleeping bag on the floor with Daria already inside, shivering/clutching her pillow. Jane is kneeling by the door in a long T-shirt that comes past her knees; she plugs in the space heater, stands, and turns off the light, the red glow of the heater illuminating the room. Daria's eyes haven't started to adjust when there's a grunt of exertion, followed by the sound of what must be Jane hitting the bed, making the entire room vibrate.

JANE (from the bed): Hah! And no running start!

DARIA: Revenge for all those three-AM practice sessions?

JANE: Hardly. I have far superior methods at my disposal. (beat) Just wanted to try it one last time.

DARIA: You're not leaving for another two weeks. And the odds are good that any potential roommate won't mind you playing Jungle Jane.

JANE: Guess I'm trying to milk those sappy childhood memories for all they're worth.

DARIA: Yeah, well...it's good that you have some.

JANE (more affectionate than sarcastic): Oh, Daria.

DARIA (surprised): What?

JANE (wisely backing off the emotion, back to a regular voice): I'm really gonna miss you. Especially in class.

DARIA (not necessarily uncomfortable with the subject, just awkward finding the words): Like you said, we're still going to see each other. (beat) I suppose I could break from my normal pattern of indifference long enough to say that I'll miss you too.

JANE (a smile in her voice, wisely settling for this): Consider your gushiness quota fulfilled.

DARIA (the little Mona Lisa smile in her own voice): For how long?

JANE: Don't push it, Morgendorffer.

DARIA (feeling better): 'Night.

JANE (stifling a yawn): 'Night.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S ROOM, Sunday morning, the buttcrack of dawn, oh-dark-thirty. The heater has turned off. From the darkness comes a grunt/moan.

JANE (V.O.): All right. My eyes are open. But it's still dark. What the hell am I doing awake? (beat) Hey, I really *am* awake.

(rustling noises)

JANE (V.O.): So what the hell am I doing in a sleeping bag?

The sound of unzipping, more rustling, and someone walking. A click, and the overhead light comes on. Daria is standing in Jane's grandma's nightgown, looking completely befuddled. She looks around the room, her gaze falling upon the bed.

JANE: (V.O.): Or to put it another way: What the hell am I doing in bed when I'm standing right here?

(beat - beat -)

JANE-IN-DARIA (JD): AAHH!

DARIA-IN-JANE (DJ) abruptly comes awake and sits up in the bed, simultaneously letting out a yell of her own.

DJ: AAAHH!

Silence falls as they stare at each other.

DJ (bleary-eyed, not even half-awake despite the adrenaline rush): Daria? Geez, go back to sleep. (falls over, haphazardly pulling the blanket over her head)

Jane abruptly realizes she's wearing glasses. She takes them off and the world becomes drenched in Vaseline; putting them back on, she looks at the bed with increasing disbelief. Gathering her courage, she slowly walks over to the bed, staring down at...herself.

JD: I'm awake, she's not. *That* makes sense. (her eyes widen at the sound of Daria's voice saying her brain's words) But I'm obviously me. (beat) So how do I wake her up?

Jane sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to touch her own shoulder, as she looks into her own face. Perfectly normal; short black hair, angular nose and jaw, all three earrings in their usual places.

JD: Oh, the hell with it. Fun wins. (louder, as she shakes DJ) Trent, for the love of God! Put on some pants!

DJ (abruptly sitting up again): Gahhh! (regaining her breath, looking around with half-lidded eyes, her gaze falls on her own body. A moment passes, and her eyes fly all the way open.) AAAAHHHH!

JD (dryly): And hello to you.


	2. Chapter 2

JANE-IN-DARIA and DARIA-IN-JANE are standing before the mirror inside Jane's closet door, staring into it at themselves. Finally, Daria speaks.

DJ: This is completely ridiculous.

JD: I get the feeling you aren't just referring to the obvious impossibility here.

DJ (sounding a little more desperate than she'd like): Any normal hamhanded morality play would put me and *Quinn* in each other's bodies. 

JD (all the more sarcastic with Daria's voice): Gee Daria, try not to look on the bright side or anything.

DJ: (growing more agitated) I'm already visualizing the entire outline for an uplifting movie of the week. Especially after that asinine argument we had last night! You and I are already soul sisters in cynicism! What kind of lessons are we supposed to learn from *this?* (beat) And where's Frank Capra when you really need him?

JD: Not to distract you from your horrifying vision -- (Daria glares at her.) But how do you know we've switched bodies?

Jane's semi-cheerful sarcasm has often proved an invaluable additional weapon in their arsenal, along with the deadpan delivery they both cultivate, and now does its usual fine job of helping ground Daria in 'herself' again. 

DJ (still shaken, but her voice steady): By observation and deduction, I have eliminated all other possibilities. The one remaining, however improbable, must be the truth.

JD (trying to make a joke of it all): So my calling your sister Moriarty was no coincidence. (beat) Dammit. I don't *want* to be Watson.

DJ: I'd settle for you being *you*. (staring into the mirror, running a hand through her short black hair) What the hell do we do now?

JD: My first move is to ditch this nightgown and apologize for inflicting it on you. (picking distastefully at the sleeve) Again.

DJ: I should have learned my lesson last time. (beat) And then?

JD (trying to not sound put out): Yes, I remember I'm supposed to leave for BFAC in two weeks. (taking control, no nonsense) And *you* have to be back at Raft before then, so we're screwed anyway. Agreed?

DJ (small voice): Agreed.

JD: But -- and this is the kicker -- let's give thanks this didn't happen while we were still at (imitating Ms. Li) Lllaaaaawndale High.

Both shudder at the thought.

JD: See the power of positive thinking?

DJ: If by that you mean imagining how much worse things *could* be.

JD: Precisely.

DJ: Call me old-fashioned, but I'd like to throw logic at this one. At least until it proves futile.

JD: Okey-doke.

Both stare at the mirror. Jane notices Daria's eyelids fluttering just as the other girl's jaw cracks open in an enormous yawn.

JD: Coffee?

DJ: Uh-huh.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S KITCHEN, not much later. DARIA-IN-JANE, still wearing the long T-shirt, sips from a steaming mug of coffee, grimacing reflexively before closing her eyes with a shiver of satisfaction. JANE-IN-DARIA sits across the table from her, wearing oversized clothes pilfered from Jane's suitcases: loose-fitting jeans, T-shirt and hand-painted sneakers.

DJ: Curiouser and curiouser. (sips the coffee again, nose twitching and her lip crinkling) My body wants it, even as my conscious mind rejects it.

JD: Maybe it was Trent you were supposed to swap with.

DJ (glaring): Jane, I am too tired and too weirded out to play my part today. (looking away, cradling the coffee to her chest)

JD: Sorry. (beat) Really.

DARIA looks back to see herself looking truly sorry. She shrugs, and this seems to be enough. Jane leans forward on her elbows, resting her chin in her hands.

JD: I think I'm seeing a pattern here. Our minds swapped bodies, or whatever --

DJ: It's a working hypothesis.

JD: But our bodies still work the same. Hence, me waking up feeling bright and alert --

DJ: -- and me feeling like shit pounded flat.

JD (admiringly): So that's what they're teaching in college these days.

DJ: Well, they never covered *this* in biochem. 

JD (shaking her head): This is disgusting and unnatural. I should not be this conscious at this hour.

DARIA takes a huge gulp of coffee and shudders.

DJ: Better than jump-starting yourself with crankcase oil.

JD: You could have had milk and sugar. Well, sugar.

DJ: I don't suppose sugar can go bad. (beat) Weren't you having an ant problem?

JD: Only in the summer.

DJ: Have you bought sugar since then?

JD: Okay, I give. But the Discovery channel says they're *full* of protein.

Trent enters the kitchen.

TRENT: Hey.

DJ: (choking on coffee): Eep!

TRENT: Whoa. You weren't using the sugar, were you?

DJ (regaining control of herself): Trent! What are you doing up?

JD (sending a meaningful look at her friend): Yeah. It's strange enough having *Jane* up.

Daria shoots a quick look back at Jane, acknowledging the save.

TRENT: We had an early audition. It was easier to stay up all night. (looking curiously at Jane) You look different, Daria. (smiling) Nice.

DARIA coughs again as Jane blushes.

JANE (V.O.): Damn physiological responses. (aloud as 'Daria') So how'd it go?

TRENT (still laid back but smiling hugely): We got the gig. And it pays.

JD: More than the last one?

TRENT (slightly embarrassed): Oh. Janey told you about that one, huh.

JD (caught momentarily offguard): Yeah, well --

TRENT (waving it off): It's okay. (smiling) It's a new club up by Desmond. They paid half up front.

DJ: Wow. That *is* something to be proud of.

TRENT: Well, we're just the opening act. But the guys are really psyched.

JD: You seem your usual tranquil self.

TRENT: You know me. I try to take life as it comes. (beat) Max is kind of nervous. This place is huge compared to the Zon. (looks at Jane) You guys should come, too.

JD: Um... (glancing desperately at Daria, who returns this with an equally helpless look)

TRENT: It's next Friday. Janey said you weren't going back until Sunday.

Jane looks again at Daria, who shrugs and gives a cryptic smile. Jane realizes with a sinking heart it's the way her face must have looked every time she was teasing Daria about Trent.

JD (giving in): Okay.

TRENT (smiling): It'll be great. You can ride with us if you don't mind getting there early.

DJ (moving to minimize the damage): That's okay. Tell me where it is and I can make her drive. (cocking a thumb at a surprised Jane)

Trent pulls a business card from his shirt pocket and hands it to Jane.

TRENT: Cool. See you there.

Trent exits the kitchen. Daria looks at Jane. 

DJ: Tell me we didn't just do that.

JD: It'll be *fine*. Even if this little mixup persists, believe me, I have no intention of doing anything to embarrass you. 

DJ: Any more than usual?

Trent sticks his head back in the kitchen.

TRENT: Aren't those Janey's clothes?

  


* * *

  


DARIA'S CAR, INTERIOR. JANE-IN-DARIA is driving down the street while the real thing keeps a nervous grip on the passenger seat. DARIA-IN-JANE is now wearing Jane's usual outfit, with a warmer jacket and leggings to keep out the chill.

DJ: Watch out for that dog! (Jane swerves, returning to her lane with a shaken expression) That's it. I don't care if we're pulled over. If we haven't fixed this before Friday, *I'm* driving us to the concert.

JD: Fine by me. (keeping her eyes on the road) It'd be easier if you weren't jumping down my throat.

DJ (pointing): Just try not to hit my mom's car.

JD (irritably): I've only been walking here for five years. I think I can tell which house is yours.

JANE slowly pulls into the driveway and parks, turning off the car.

DJ (with a hint of her own irritation): You *are* going to be able to keep our stories straight, right?

JANE sighs as she pockets the keys.

DJ: There *will* be questions about your clothing.

JD (shrugging): I'll tell 'em I felt like a change.

DARIA glares at her friend, but Jane isn't looking at her, looking down at her hands and twisting them together in her lap.

DJ (softening): Just try not to talk to Quinn too much, all right? I'd rather do that myself.

JD (not letting her squirm out of it, looking her in the eye): So you *will* talk to her?

DJ (sighing): Once we get this whole mess straightened out.

JD: Just in case, you wanna pick a deadline?

DJ (biting back her initial retort): Not right now. (beat) I'll think about it.

JANE nods, and they exit the car. Quinn appears in Daria's 2nd floor window; she sees the girls and pulls back, turning and quickly leaving Daria's room.

JD: Can I trust you to keep my piercings clean?

DJ (wary): You mean besides your ears?

JD: What? I should ruin the joy of discovering that on your own?

DJ: I don't know whether to kill you, or kill myself.

JD: And remember what I said about the necklace. (pointing at the jade pendant still around "Jane's" neck) As far as I'm concerned, that little beauty is our number one suspect.

DJ (looking down at the pendant): I'll let you know if it starts glowing.

JD: You sound skeptical. Care to make a little wager?

DJ (even more skeptical): That's all I need. More positive thinking. (beat) Such as?

JD: If my necklace is guilty, you have to sit for a professional photo in full evening dress. And give me a copy.

DJ: Which you will paint a portrait from, knowing I would never sit still long enough otherwise.

JD: Is it possible to know a person too well?

DJ: And what's *my* incentive?

JD: Hmm. (beat) Let me think on that one. My preference is constructive for you rather than embarrassing for me.

DJ: Every minute you spend with my family, I want you to remember those words.

JD (confident): We're gonna be okay.

DJ (unconvinced, looking at her boots): If you say so.

JD: I do. (grins) Now run home and make your poor brother some breakfast.

DJ (deadpan): Unless he's suffering from a severe case of toaster finger, he can jolly well make his own.

JD: Did I say 'make'? I meant 'buy'. Just grab some money out of the living room table. Remember, the one with the missing handle?

DJ: I remember. Don't tell me you keep all your petty cash in one place.

JD: Let me know if it runs out. I'll show you where we keep the rest.

DJ: Now *there's* some positive thinking.

Daria turns away and walks down the driveway, Jane watching with a sad look. Music: DEFTONES, "Change In the House of Flies":
    
    
    _I watched a change
     In you
     It's like you never
     Had wings
     Now you feel
     So alive..._
    

  


* * *

  


MORGENDORFFER LIVING ROOM, moments later. JANE-IN-DARIA enters and shuts the front door, looking around. Her shoulders relax as she realizes she's alone.

JD (V.O.): Oh good. They're all still at church.

HELEN (O.S.): Daria?

JD (V.O.): Crap, I forgot. They don't go to church. (aloud) Yeah.

HELEN enters from the kitchen, attache case dangling from one arm as she puts in her earrings.

JD (disbelieving): Don't tell me you're working on Sunday.

HELEN (heaving a sigh): Oh, you know Eric. Honestly, sometimes I think he invents work to avoid going home. (Realizing the subject change and getting back on track) Now just what went on between you and Quinn last night? She was obviously upset when your friend brought her home.

JD: Um...I really don't know.

HELEN (disapprovingly): Daria.

JD (insistently, looking Helen in the eye): I'm telling the truth. It was just a normal conversation that got out of control. (She shifts uncomfortably on her feet, not used to having to look up at most people. Helen sighs again.)

HELEN: Whatever it is, I'd appreciate you two sorting it out before you leave. Quinn looks up to you a great deal, and your approval means more to her than you realize.

JD: I kind of got that impression. (hesitantly) She's just...changed so much this last year. Sometimes I forget she isn't the same old brat.

HELEN (approvingly) She's not the only one. (Smiling as Jane looks nervous, she gives her a kiss on the cheek before it can be avoided.) There's lasagna in the fridge if I'm not back for dinner. And your father will be sleeping late. (A small grin as she opens the door and exits) Try not to disturb him.

JANE grimaces as the door shuts.

JD: Trying not to go there. (beat) Trying and failing. (She looks at the wall clock, wincing at the sight) Okay, *that's* worse. (She glances at the stairs, obviously contemplating Daria's nice soft bed. She looks down at Daria's feet, which look less tiny in sneakers than the usual combat boots, and begins to pace back and forth while staring at the feet.)

JD (conversationally): Hey, Daria. I really thought going out for a run sounded like a great idea, until you had an asthma attack. That wouldn't have been so bad, except I passed out while I was running. Well sure, that explains the leg, but -- (She stops, shaking her head.) Or maybe I'm getting paranoid in my old age.

She walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, lips pursing at the sight of a defrosting box of lasagna product.

JD (V.O.): Good lord, and I thought Trent's nutrition was lacking! (determined) Well by George, I'm gonna cook something decent before I leave here or my name ain't Jane Lane. (beat) Who the hell is George, anyway?

Grabbing the last apple from the crisper, she shuts the fridge and heads back to the living room. QUINN is descending the stairs, but stops at the sight of the other girl, clearly deciding whether to reverse direction.

JD (as nonconfrontationally as possible) Quinn. (QUINN resumes her descent, wearing a resigned look.) Can I borrow a sweater?

QUINN (stopping again, clearly not expecting this): What?

JD: I'm going out for a walk, and it's too warm for a winter coat. Can I borrow a sweater?

QUINN (breezing past her toward the kitchen): I don't know, Daria. You wouldn't want anyone to see you wearing something too *cheerful.*

JD (following, steadying herself for a potentially rough ride): Look, whatever I may have said -- (Quinn offers a Meaningful Glare, opening the fridge, and Jane follows through with a casual swing.) Bitter is particularly unattractive on you.

QUINN shuts the fridge, continuing to glare as she rips the top off her yogurt and drops it in the trash.

JD (unsure how to deal with the uncharacteristic silence even under more normal circumstances): Outraged is okay. I'm better with outrage. 

QUINN pulls open the silverware drawer and gets out a spoon. From the look on her face, her resolve is beginning to waver; but instead of responding turns to leave the kitchen. Jane is on the verge of saying something else, but doesn't.

QUINN (from the doorway, without turning around) Take the black one. It's on the far left.

JANE watches her leave with a troubled expression.

JD (shaking her head): Will we ever truly know what goes on in that head? (beat) And when am I going to stop talking to myself?

  


* * *

  


THE STREETS OF LAWNDALE, mid-day. JANE-IN-DARIA is walking those streets. Music: MY FAIR LADY, "On the Street Where You Live":
    
    
    _I have often walked down this street before
     But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before
     All at once am I
     Several stories high
     Knowing I'm on the street where you live
     Are there lilac trees in the heart of town? 
     Can you hear a lark in any other part of town? 
     Does enchantment pour
     Out of ev'ry door? 
     No, it's just on the street where you live
     And oh! The towering feeling
     Just to know somehow you are near
     The overpowering feeling
     That any second you may suddenly appear
     People stop and stare.
     They don't bother me
     For there's no where else on earth that I would rather be. 
     Let the time go by
     I won't care if I
     Can be here on the street where you live._
    

As JANE turns the corner, she spies KEVIN and TED DEWITT-CLINTON, who are attempting to teach TAD GUPTY to throw a football. They're not having much success, but the kid's having fun.

KEVIN: Hey, Daria! You ever notice how Tad and Ted are almost the same? Neat, huh?

JD: I have to admit it escaped me all these years. So how goes the off-season?

KEVIN: Oh, I'm always on. You can't afford to take a break when it comes to training. Right, guys?

TED: Actually, rest and recovery periods are crucial. It's at those times when new muscle is actually being built.

KEVIN: Ted's my new coach. He's really been helping me pack on mad gainz.

JD: Gains?

KEVIN: No, mad gainz! (lowering his voice and looking around) I gotta make sure I can still get out of here on a sports scholarship. My parents about killed me when I didn't graduate on time.

JD: To be fair, you were paying more attention to your game with Brittany.

KEVIN, hangdog: Fat lot of good it did.

TAD: Guys? I need to wash the football dirt off my hands before dinner. My parents check under my nails.

KEVIN: Hey, if you see your friend Jane? Tell her I said hi, and...I did try her advice. Even if it didn't work.

JANE is taken aback but quickly covers.

JD: No problem.

TED: Oh, and Daria? I'm sorry I left you in the lurch at the arcade. It felt like we were really hitting it off, and I did kind of regret it later on.

JD, somewhat coolly: But not enough to call me again.

TED, with a rueful smile: Touche. Well, give Jane my best as well. Even if you only have one friend -- quality over quantity. Am I right?

JD, with a small and cynical snort: Right.

  


* * *

  


LANE HOUSE, exterior.

DARIA, full of nervous energy and decked out in paint-spattered sweats and sneakers, has been jogging the streets in JANE'S body for the last hour and is just getting back. Gasping for air, she grabs the garden hose and wrenches the faucet open, drenching her face and neck. TRENT sticks his head out the window.

TRENT: Hey. I'm ready to clean out the storage room.

DARIA shuts off the water and stands there with her eyes closed. TRENT frowns.

TRENT: Are you okay?

DJ, eyes still shut: Um -- too much sun. I think.

TRENT: Go lie down. I'll get you some salt water.

DJ, hesitant: Are you sure it's safe?

TRENT: Safer than the sugar.

DJ: Fair enough.

TRENT: If you need to go to the doctor, just let me know. Before it gets that bad.

He looks at her with affection, and a genuine serious air. DARIA fights a lump in her throat from general emotion as well as her own lustful feelings.

DJ: Deal.

TRENT accepts this and shuts the window. DARIA goes inside, heads to JANE'S room and shuts the door, breathing a sigh of relief. She looks over at the bed, then down at her own body. Or rather, JANE'S body.

DJ: What am I going to do if he tries to hug me? (beat) How often does Trent hug his sister? And why do I care?

She plucks her sweaty sweats with an expression of distaste.

DJ: I vote today be laundry day. Assuming I can find enough laundry to make it worth the trip. But first, a shower.

She leaves her room and walks down the hall toward the bathroom, obviously steeling and convincing herself.

DJ: Might as well get it over with. Besides, it postpones any potential awkward hugs between siblings. Or might as well be siblings.

She stops, hand on the doorknob, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

DJ: Damnit. (beat) Damnit, damnit, damnit.

She goes inside and shuts the door.

The shower comes on. It stays on for a very long time, not quite loud enough to cover the sounds of vigorous masturbation.

  


* * *

  


MORGENDORFFER HOUSE, with JANE back from her own walk, looking somewhat better for the fresh air but still vaguely unsatisfied. She's trying her new hand at a pencil sketch, but quickly gives this up as a lost cause.

JD: So much for drawing on the right side of the brain. (looking over at the computer) Maybe I should try *writing* something?

A beat goes by, and JANE shudders.

JD: Ugh. Not on your life.

She looks at Daria's bookshelves.

JD, as if to an imaginary DARIA: You know I already know everything on here. Hell, I gave you half of these.

Bored enough to start spinning in her chair, she passes by the computer five times before losing momentum. She reaches out and grabs the desk with a frown.

JD: I won't tell if you don't.

She thumbs the power button, and the machine springs to life. Or rather, limps. Jane is soon twiddling her thumbs.

JD: And I forgot how long this takes.

A password prompt finally appears. JANE stares in outrage.

JD: Since when?

She leans forward, squinting at the screen as though she can bypass it through sheer force of will.

JD: Okay. Do we start with the stupid easy ones that nobody with two brain cells to rub together would ever suspect her of using?

It doesn't take more than a second to decide.

JD (snorts): As if.

JANE proceeds to mostly have fun for the next ten minutes as she does her best to guess. Eventually frustration wins out, however. She hits the power button a little more aggressively than necessary, glaring at the screen as it goes dark. 

JD: Not like I would have gone snooping through my best friend's personal files. (exhales heavily) We never truly know ourselves until we've been tested.

She turns around in her chair and looks at the dresser, then the closet.

JD: Okay, Daria. Surprise me. Do you, in fact, own anything that stands out in the slightest? A single bright, wacky or colorful item not borrowed from me or your fashion plate of a sister? (frowning) You've *never* borrowed my clothes. (realizing) Until now.

She throws up her hands and sets to digging. Musical montage as she manages to find a few stranger items: Sweaters that were obvious grandparent presents; funny T-shirts from junior high that probably fit still, if a little snug. And a few pairs of jeans that look reasonably well worn, considering she can't recall ever seeing Daria wear them. Well, maybe once.

She pulls out the loosest pair of jeans, along with a T-shirt depicting a meat chart in the shape of a unicorn ("Joy", "Compassion", "Rump Roast"). Ignoring the rising weirdness in her brain, she puts her body on automatic, paying as little notice as possible to the sight of this body, emerging as if from a cocoon. Then she's naked except for the underwear -- plain white, with minimal lace -- and staring at herself in the mirror.

JD: Hello, Daria.

Her laugh is a little shaky. She quickly grabs the jeans, squeezing into them without too much trouble.

The shirt is almost tight enough to make her reconsider, but she shimmies it on and tucks it in and stands up straight to survey her reflection. Her hair is tousled from the struggle, the modest curves of her body nicely accentuated by the slim fitting clothing. JANE realizes she's staring at Daria's parted lips, her lightly heaving bosom.

Her hand reaches out and hits the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. We hear the sounds of JANE slowly making her way toward the bed, barely managing to avoid stubbing her toes more than once. The sound of a zipper, and rustling clothing.

Then, the sounds of vigorous masturbation.


	3. Chapter 3

LANE HOME, kitchen. Daria-in-Jane sits at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee and wearing a decidedly resentful look. Enter TRENT.

TRENT: Hey, have you see my guitar pick?

DJ: Which one?

TRENT: The red one with the flaming skull. I was using it earlier.

DJ: Did you check your pockets?

TRENT: Huh. (checks, smiles) Thanks.

DJ: No problem. (annoyed at her own quickening pulse)

TRENT: So what's for dinner?

DJ: The mysteries of the Orient. Quinn's bringing Chinese.

TRENT: Daria's sister? What's up?

DJ: I needed someone to talk to who isn't you. Or male.

TRENT just looks at her. DARIA sighs.

DJ: Daria's great. But sometimes, you need a fresh perspective.

TRENT: And she was the only one available.

DJ: Basically.

TRENT (shrugging): Quinn's all right.

DJ (once more feeling a tad shamed): Yeah.

TRENT looks out the window.

TRENT: And she's got wine coolers.

DJ: What?

TRENT: Have fun. (exeunts with his bad self)

QUINN breezes in, setting her bags on the table.

QUINN: Isn't your brother going to join us?

DJ: He'll eat it for breakfast if we save him some. He's kind of a night owl.

QUINN pulls out a four-pack of Mixed Berry.

QUINN: Now I know what you're thinking, but I'm totally being responsible. I didn't get some skeevy stranger to buy for me.

DJ (reluctantly concerned): I thought that whole scene with Lindy turned you off to the drinking side of life.

QUINN: You sound like my sister. (giggles, then turns practical) It's four wine coolers, Jane, and two of them are for you. I think I can manage to stumble my way home in one piece.

DJ uncaps a bottle and takes a tentative sip.

DJ (grimacing): Tell Trent he can have mine.

  


* * *

  


DARIA'S ROOM, where a groggy JANE lies among rumpled sheets looking stunned.

JD: Okay. Maybe a shower is in order. Assuming I don't want to walk around smelling like a brothel.

She stands, draping a sheet around herself before opening the bedroom door and peeking outside. The coast is clear, and she scurries down the hall to the bathroom. 

JD: No funny business. No screwing around. Just a quick in and out. (beat) Poorest choice of words ever.

Taking a deep breath, she enters the bathroom and shuts the door.

She emerges forty minutes later, having used up all the hot water. Thankfully she doesn't have to worry about Quinn being here. 

JD, aloud, slightly shaky: Well.

She wanders over to the hall mirror, staring at herself with growing concern.

JD: Okay. Except for necessary maintenance: Hands off 'til you return the merchandise. (Takes a deep breath, exhales strongly) Right.

HELEN: Talking to yourself, dear?

JD: Aaaah!

HELEN (mildly disapproving): Really, Daria. You need to develop *some* situational awareness.

JD: Right now I'd prefer blissful ignorance.

HELEN gives her a curious look.

HELEN: That doesn't sound like you.

JD: Tell me about it.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S ROOM, where DARIA is having trouble keeping her conversation with QUINN on a safe track.

DJ: And did you ever ask your sister about college? She would have jumped at the chance to --

QUINN: As if! You're the only one she listens to.

DJ: Come on. You know that's not true.

QUINN: Believe me, Jane. I've watched the two of you all through high school. What you have? That relationship, that -- closeness? That's real. (shaking her head) Not like those Fashion Club fairy tales.

DJ: You're saying they're glib and superficial?

QUINN: Probably. (beat) Yes.

The two of them sit on Jane's bed, DARIA looking increasingly uncomfortable.

DJ: Weren't you going to give those to Trent?

QUINN (flushed and slightly jolly): He doesn't like fruity flavors. (takes a delicate sip) I'm okay, Jane. Really.

DJ, not nasty but slightly skeptical: If you say so.

QUINN: I'm fine. I don't feel sick at all, and if I do I'll stop right away, okay? Come on. I just -- I just want to do something a little irresponsible. While I still have time.

DJ: I suppose if you're gonna rebel, go big or go home.

QUINN: I know that means something. (points her bottle at DARIA with a giggle before taking another sip) Besides the fact that you're smarter than me, too. Brat.

DJ starts to speak, then stops, looking exasperated. QUINN continues on, mostly oblivious.

QUINN: Have you ever considered just the tiniest bit of shadow and mascara? Not enough to go goth.

DJ: Not in my most bizarre and detailed nightmares.

QUINN: Fine, fine. Honestly, not even for Halloween? (takes a larger sip) No wonder you two are inseperable.

DJ: See? The Quinn who came to Lawndale five years ago wouldn't have known that word. Or how to use it.

QUINN gives her a suspicious glance, then shrugs as she looks away.

DJ: Trust me. Your sister and I agree about all kinds of things we despise. When it's something we actually like? That means a lot.

QUINN takes her in once more, this time looking more puzzled; then chuckles.

QUINN: You're saying you both like me?

DJ: I was trying to be subtle about it. I didn't want to insult you.

QUINN: It's okay. I believe you -- I mean, you're nice. You don't have to lie to make my sister look good.

DJ, carefully: She does care about you.

QUINN briefly looks pensive, then sits up straighter, holding her bottle to the light and closing one eye as she looks through it.

QUINN: I'll bet I can hang this sailor from the highest yardarm. What do you think about that?

DJ: I think this little cabin boy has had enough for the night.

She moves in to intercept the bottle. QUINN looks ready to pull it away, then sighs and hands it over, watching DARIA curiously as she leans over and sets the bottle on the nightstand.

DJ: The ants will be happy. Let me know if you need to hurl.

QUINN, rolling her eyes: I am so not drunk right now! How can I prove it to you?

DJ (uncomfortable): You don't need to prove anything to me. You're not behind a wheel. I'm not your mom --

QUINN leans over, puts her arms around DARIA-IN-JANE and plants an enthusiastic kiss smack dab on her lips. Not overly energetic or sloppy, but definitely more than casual.

DJ, pulling away: Aaah!

QUINN pulls back, startled, slightly disheveled.

QUINN: What?

DJ: Nothing! I mean -- (giving up) God, if you're not drunk -- what the hell is wrong with you?

QUINN (clearly surprised, more than a little upset): What's wrong with *you*? 

DARIA rises to her feet, backing away.

DJ: This is -- I can't -- (hating herself) You need to go.

QUINN (more sorrowful than angry or tearful): Dammit, Jane. Don't do this to me. It was a dumb idea, okay? Just -- don't tell Daria. And don't kick me out of here. I'm sorry --

DJ, unable to deal with any more: No, it's okay. I'm just -- really tired.

QUINN: Yeah.

DJ: I, uh...gotta go. To the...yeah.

DARIA shuts the bedroom door behind her with a look of monumental frustration, combined with sheer and mortal terror.

TRENT walks by, not even looking at her.

TRENT: How's Quinn?

DJ, before she can stop herself: Tipsy and flirty.

TRENT stops and glances over. His eyebrows do not rise one bit.

TRENT: Whoa.

DJ: That's what I said. Right before 'you need to go'.

TRENT: Harsh.

DJ: Harsh is better than the alternative. Except she's probably in there concocting some fool scheme to get what she wants and still be unhappy.

TRENT: Want me to drive her home?

DJ: You would literally be my savior.

TRENT lets out a very mild snort.

TRENT: I need to find my keys.

DARIA watches him go, obvious relief and gratitude on her face. Which, she's reminded by a fleeting glimpse in the hallway mirror, is still JANE'S face. She glares at her best friend's reflection.

DJ: I'll have you know this is all your fault. (sighs) Except for everyone else acting just as crazy.

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door. QUINN is curled up on the bed, passed out and dead to the world.

DJ (looking up, deadpan): "Thank you, God."

  


* * *

  


MORGENDORFFER HOME, the following morning. JANE-IN-DARIA is again awake at a disgusting early hour, sitting at Daria's desk and staring sadly down at her steaming mug.

JD: Oh, instant. I can hardly call you coffee without wanting to do someone grievous bodily harm. (She takes a sip and shudders.) Like the guy who invented instant.

She jumps as the phone rings. Fumbling, tormented by visions of the rest of the household storming in to scream about being woken up, she fits the receiver to her ear.

JD: Hello?

DJ's voice, over phone: We need to talk.

  


* * *

  


MORGENDORFFER KITCHEN, crack of dawn. Our protagonists sit at the counter with matching cups of coffee. DARIA-IN-JANE still looks vaguely shell-shocked.

JD: I was wondering about all that racket last night. Must have been Trent trying not to drop her. 

DJ (clutching her mug, staring into space): This cannot be happening.

JD: I believe we already covered that.

DJ: As if things weren't bad enough. 

JD (irritated and defensive): My body is not a prison. At least it doesn't have asthma.

DJ (leaning in close, hissing, obviously trying not to yell at the top of her lungs): My *sister* tried to *kiss* me.

JD: No, she tried to kiss *me*. Don't confuse the issue.

DARIA falls back with a groan.

DJ: I take it she talked to you.

JD: At great length. (admiringly) You're quite the stud.

DJ: I guess you just have more of a sex drive than I do.

JD (hesitating as a flush creeps up her neck): Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means.

DARIA is too wrapped up in her own problems to notice her friend's embarrassment.

DJ: You know what's worse?

JD: That I knew what you meant?

DJ: That I feel horrible. Because all I want to do is to manhandle your brother now that I'm practically the same size as him. And the only reason I haven't is -- well -- the obvious.

JD: Your discretion and restraint are appreciated. Also, I'm not entirely sure where my comfort zone is for this kind of discussion. So my safeword will be something like 'Holy fuckballs Daria cease and desist before I vomit this tiny body of yours inside out'.

DJ (frustrated): This isn't any easier for me, you know. We're literally inside each other.

JD: I don't care if you're still wearing my body. If you end up putting me on Jerry Springer with my own brother's kid, I will murder you in your sleep.

DJ: Jane.

JD: I will squeeze the life from your lungs as you squeeze that child from my loins.

DJ (almost shouting): *Jane!*

JANE falls silent, breathing heavily. DARIA reaches out to take her hand, then pulls back, sitting and fidgeting with her fingers, tapping the counter, etc.

JD: Sorry. (a moment, and another) I couldn't resist.

DJ: What?

JD (quickly): Nothing. Forget it.

DARIA narrows her eyes, gears whirring as she tries to suss this out. Then it clicks and her eyes get very big.

DJ: Well, it's...to be expected. In our situation. Getting intimate with each other's, anatomy -- kind of unavoidable.

JD: Speak for yourself. (raising both hands, off Daria's glare) Kidding.

DARIA seems about to speak again, and doesn't. JANE does the same, before a less touchy subject occurs to her.

JD: Any progress on that amulet?

DJ: I'm a woman of science. These primitive notions of magic fundamentally challenge my entire *weltanschauung*.

JD: You kiss your mother with that mouth?

DJ: I'm doing my level best not to kiss your brother with it.

JD: I thought you said the attraction was purely physical.

DJ: And how.

JD: If living with him for a week hasn't purged your mind of impure thoughts, you're beyond my help.

DJ: *You're* not helping.

JD: Believe me, I'll be more than happy to play matchmaker once you and I are back where we belong.

DJ: (silence)

JD: What?

DJ: Nothing. I was waiting for music.

JD, admiring: You really are a glutton for punishment.

DJ: Not so much that I'm driving us to the concert. Your crash course will have to be enough to -- not crash.

JD: I thought you were putting your foot down?

DJ: If you get pulled over, you can show them your license. If I get pulled over, you get bailed out by my mother, and I get to cool my heels in the hoosegow.

JD (flatly): Are you freaking kidding me.

DJ: I was going to say "clink". My inner author demanded something better.

JD (resigned): You could at least give me your computer password.

DJ: I'd sooner give you both kidneys and the liver, too.

JD (brightening): Throw in the heart and you've got a deal.

DJ (momentarily thrown): Dunno who'd want that thing.

JD (affectionate): Oh, Daria.

  


* * *

  


Musical montage: Smash Mouth, "Diggin' Your Scene":

\- Jane as Daria doing various small household chores, Helen praising her as Quinn watches, suspicion and jealousy in her eyes

\- Daria as Jane in the basement, in Jane's room, in the garage with a welding mask, looking increasingly frustrated as she pokes at Jane's pendant and makes notes in a notebook that grows more tattered as its pages fill

\- Split screen of both characters trying to draw/write, respectively, looking increasingly frustrated until: Jane is stabbing her drawing pad with a pencil and Daria is in the backyard, burning a massive pile of crumpled sheets of paper in the barbecue grill

\- Jane as Daria approaching Quinn, obviously trying to be friendly, only to be rebuffed

\- Daria as Jane wincing, trying not to cover her ears as she gives a thumbs up to Trent, who's putting his amplifier through its paces

\- Jane as Daria pulling a Jim Fixx, "running around a dewy track at dawn"; having trouble even at a slow pace, but grimly determined to finish her laps

\- Daria as Jane removing her multiple earrings and cleaning the holes, glaring at her reflection in the mirror

  


* * *

  


JANE'S BEDROOM, the night before the concert. Daria-in-Jane paces in circles; Jane-in-Daria sits on the bed going over Daria's notes, the pendant sitting beside her. JANE looks up, annoyed.

JD: Daria, I do not read as fast as you. You told me to check your work, and that's what I'm doing. So let me do it, and stop driving me insane trying to wear a hole in my floor.

DJ: Sorry. Sorry. (throws up her hands, throws herself into the chair)

JANE continues to study, occasionally glancing at the pendant. Finally she sets the notebook to one side.

JD: I see no errors in your logic.

DJ (heavily): Which means we're screwed.

JD: Which means we still don't know.

DJ: Which basically means we're screwed!

JD (forcefully): Listen to me. We are not screwed. We are the two smartest people we know, and we are going to figure this out. Got that?

DARIA looks down at her left hand, opening and closing her fingers a few times before making a fist, rotating it back and forth. JANE sighs.

JD: If it'll make you feel better -- go ahead.

DJ: What? (looks up at Jane, looking utterly lost)

JD: You're just stressed out. If I can handle it, so can you.

DJ: Easy for you to say.

JANE narrows her eyes.

JD: What's that supposed to mean?

DARIA gets an uncomfortable look on her face. 

JD: No, go on. (beat) You were saying?

DARIA starts to speak, then falls silent, looking away and exhaling heavily.

JD: It's okay. I'll say it for you.

DJ: Jane --

JD: I got the better end of the deal. That is what you're saying, right?

DJ: Dammit, don't you --

JD: Why not?

DARIA doesn't respond, her glare one of resentment and betrayal.

JD: I'm a starving artist. Taking care of her no-account brother because their parents couldn't be bothered to actually parent. I mean, you could get lucky and strike it rich with some gallery sale -- but I don't see you sitting down at a canvas any time soon.

DJ: Oh, you are just digging yourself deeper with every word.

JD: Why? Because I'm acknowledging your greater success? You've never gotten less than straight A's in anything but phys ed. What the hell do you have to worry about?

JANE stops, perhaps realizing she's gone too far. DARIA shakes her head and laughs quietly. A moment passes.

JD: Seriously. (She tries to meet DARIA'S eyes, who is having none of it.) If it'll make you feel better --

DJ: If you want to get beaten up, you'll have to do that yourself. (Walks to the door, opens it and looks back.) Maybe what I have to worry about is my so-called friends, waiting for the worst possible time to start being honest.

JD: Daria --

DJ: And maybe what you have to worry about? Is them getting tired of your shit.

The door slams on DARIA'S exit. JANE sits on the bed a moment, then sighs and gets to her feet as DARIA re-enters the room, a sheepish look in her face.

JD: Yeah. (Her expression softens.) Look --

DJ: Just make it easy on me.

JANE sighs and walks out. DARIA flinches, drawing back as she passes; gently shuts the door and leans her head on it, closing her eyes.

DJ: Please. I know you don't exist. I know I've cursed your name a thousand times. (beat) A day.

With a tremendous effort she lifts her head, trudges over to the bed and sits down.

DJ: I know I've said I hate my life. But I really don't. I just want it back. And --

She takes a deep breath.

DJ: She's still my friend. (very quietly) She doesn't deserve this.


	4. Chapter 4

MORGENDORFFER KITCHEN, the evening of the concert. HELEN is rapidly shuffling through paperwork and stuffing it into a briefcase. JANE-in-DARIA stands at the counter with her, looking flummoxed. Also slightly more arty than usual, in a tie-dyed shirt and hip hugger jeans.

HELEN: I'm sorry, Daria. I did everything I could, but you know Eric. And knowing your father, you watch. It won't be a week after you leave for school that he'll decide it's finally time to indulge in a second car. 

JD: It's no big deal. We can ride with Trent and the band.

HELEN: I do hope he keeps that van of his in reasonable repair?

JD: I'm not concerned.

HELEN (still mistrustful): Well...you have shown pretty good judgment. Overall.

JD: I could rebel more, if you need the practice.

HELEN (chuckling): A bit late for that, now. Well -- (grabbing her thermos of coffee) Have a good time at the concert, and don't stay up too late. And I know Quinn may turn you down, but it would be a nice gesture on your part if --

JD: I already tried. Sorry.

HELEN: Well, thank you. I do hope you and Jane can work out whatever this is.

JD: Kind of a molehill that blew up into a moutain.

HELEN: And is it one person's fault?

JANE reflects on this a moment, obviously thinking about more than one conflict in recent memory.

JD: I think she got an idea in her head about me. And it took over from the real me. So now it doesn't matter what I do -- it just proves that her notion of me is the reality.

HELEN: Well, *I* know you're both mature, intelligent young women who will have no problem figuring it out. (gives JANE a quick hug) Dinner's in the fridge! And remind your father I don't care what they say on TV, dessert does *not* come first!

JANE watches the door shut behind HELEN, listens to the car starting up and driving away. She looks down, shakes her head and sighs, then looks over at the staircase, glancing upward. Then the other direction, checking the time on the wall clock. Shrugging, she grabs her jacket, checking her pockets for all the essentials; kneels to double check her boot laces. She's just standing up when QUINN appears at the top of the stairs, dolled up and dressed up to the nines in a thankfully not too short skirt, looking hesitant.

QUINN: Is there still room in the van?

JD: If you don't mind sitting on top of equipment. (frowning) Not that I'm opposed or anything, but -- why the change of heart?

QUINN: Because I heard what you said to Mom about getting into a fight with Jane. And since I can count on one hand the number of times *that's* happened since we moved here -- (sighs) I just figured you could use someone in your corner.

JD: You are?

QUINN: Well, yeah. (mildly offended, with a "duh" look) That's what sisters are for.

JANE is clearly touched despite herself and the absurdities of the situation.

JD: Then let's get a move on. Anything to keep from giving him a reason to shift into third.

  


* * *

  


MYSTIK SPIRAL'S VAN, on the road, on the move. TRENT is driving, MAX riding shotgun.

QUINN is enjoying a comparatively luxurious seat, thanks to NICK and JESSE giving up their spots and moving all the way to the rear with the equipment so she can sit down on the rearmost seat and have plenty of wiggle room.

JANE and DARIA occupy opposite ends of the long middle seat, not actively pulling away from each other as if repulsed but both doing their utmost to stare straight ahead. Finally JANE-in-DARIA sighs.

JD: Are we really going to play silent treatment all the way there?

DJ: Well, since you just broke the silence, my answer would be: 'Regrettably, no.'

Behind them, QUINN perks up before turning to stare out the window, pretending not to be listening.

JD: With less than a mile to go, I figured someone should break the ice.

DJ: You could have broken the ice. Silently.

JD: Are you seriously going to play it this way?

DARIA covers her mouth with her hand, looking angry; drumming her fingers before throwing her head back with a sigh. She's decked JANE'S body out with an outfit approaching grunge, well suited for the chill evening air -- though like JANE, stuck with the same old boots.

DJ: I don't know how else to play it. This is -- all new to me.

JD: Does that mean you're ready to work *with* me again?

DARIA pulls the pendant from under her flannel shirt, hanging on its chain around her neck. She stares at it for the thousandth time, squinting as if to penetrate its secrets with the intensity of her gaze.

DJ (quietly): I don't know.

TRENT pulls into a loading zone.

TRENT: Okay. Does anyone not have a guest pass?

DARIA, JANE and QUINN all hold up lanyards.

TRENT: Flash those and you get to come backstage. Who wants to come backstage now?

QUINN: Me! Obviously, me, I mean -- sorry.

TRENT actually smiles at her, causing QUINN to blush as he turns to JANE-in-DARIA.

TRENT: So? How about it?

Both JANE and DARIA react with an infinitesimal wince. JANE casts a critical eye at DARIA, who's clearly going where TRENT goes.

JD: Thanks. I'll take my chances with the crowd.

TRENT: Fair enough. Come on, guys.

JANE watches as the rest of the gang head through the back door of the building. DARIA is the last one through, and throws a quick glance back at her friend before disappearing inside. 

JD: This ought to be fun. Crowd surfing with asthma. (looking down at herself, frustration becomes resignation as she tucks her lanyard back into her shirt)

JANE makes her way around to the front of the building, where a line is just starting to form. She takes her place behind four other people, pursing her lips in surprised approval.

JD: An actual queue? Maybe things *are* looking up.

DUDE ahead of her to his friend: Dude, that would be an awesome name for a band! 'Actual Q'! 

DUDE'S FRIEND, scribbling on a napkin: I'm so there.

JD: Remember I get ten percent.

DUDE snorts, doesn't even turn around: As if.

JD: So much for the rule of law.

She turns around, eyebrows rising at the lengthening line of people. The next person behind her is a dark-haired girl who doesn't look too horribly angry or emo, and JANE leans over.

JD: Hey, who's the opening act?

GIRL: Is there an opening act?

JD: You tell me. (shrugs) Maybe not.

It takes a few minutes for the people ahead of her to pay for their tickets and be processed. Luckily JANE already has a ticket, and they stamp her hand and send her through without a second look.

The room isn't too large, and JANE finds a spot with the crowd milling about toward the back. TRENT and the rest of the band are setting up in full view of the growing audience, ignoring the catcalls from the guys, the flirtatious cries from the girls.

JD (under her breath): God, I need a drink.

DUDE passing her in a jean jacket: Sister, I so hear you.

He pulls an unopened pint bottle of whiskey from his jacket.

DUDE: You clearly need this more than me. (points a finger at her, as if in warning) Stay beautiful.

JANE watches him disappear into the crowd.

JD: You have got to be kidding.

She stares down at the bottle.

JD (voiceover): Okay. Am I so mad at my best friend that I'm willing to abuse her body without her consent? (beat) Chemically. (closing her eyes) God damn it.

Her nose wrinkles as a cloud of sweet and acrid smoke wafts her way.

JD: I could have sworn I changed the hippie traps.

She glances around, at first unable to locate the source, then realizing it's coming from multiple locations.

JD: Great.

The poorly ventilated room continues to fill with smoke as TRENT steps up to the microphone.

TRENT: We're Mystik Spiral. And for once we got comped, so we don't care if they have to stop the show. So we're gonna play until they shut us down! (MAX gives a roll of the drums) Is that all right with you?

A raucous cheer erupts from the crowd. 

TRENT: Then we're gonna kick this off with a little number we like to call: 'Poser, Deposed'. Take it away Jesse!

JESSE rips into a squeal of feedback before the band join in, a cacophony of noise drowning out the audience and their roar of approval. MAX smacks the cymbals four times and they're off, doing their best to imitate the galloping rhythms of Iron Maiden. Needless to say, the resemblance leaves a bit to be desired.

JD (dawning horror): Oh God. They might actually finish an entire set.

Trying to avoid being noticed, JANE pulls back against the wall. Apparently this puts out enough wallflower vibes to keep anyone from approaching her as Mystik Spiral make it through the mosh pit opener, seguing with no introduction into what JANE recognizes as the power ballad of 'Your Last Time'. The male contingent heartily approve, swaying as if entranced, belting out the chorus with unprecedented enthusiasm.

JANE looks down, realizing she's still clutching the unopened bottle. With a guilty look, she stuffs it inside her coat.

JD (voiceover): There is no reason I should be this hungry. (glances around the room) Strike that. Reverse it.

She chuckles, looking unsteady on her feet.

JD: Whoa, Nelly. (switch to voiceover) Okay. Contact high. I can deal.

She frowns as she stares at the roomful of people, abruptly fighting to hold herself up against the wall; trying to take deeper breaths until remembering that's probably a bad idea. Her fingers creep inside the jacket, plucking at the cap of the bottle.

JD (VO): Alky much? Like you're some great big drinker?

Her eyes wobble and cross, red and bloodshot.

JD (VO): Drinking, bad idea. Especially if you're high. (chuckles) And wow, are you ever.

She giggles out loud.

JD (VO): First time for this body. Must be why it's not as fun as I remember --

She manages to make it to the bathroom and barricades herself in a stall, dry heaving until the urge passes and the cramps subside. A splash of water on her face, and Jane stares at Daria looking back at her from the mirror. Outside she can hear the opening chords of "Attraction In Traction". At least that's what the band had been calling it last she knew.

The crowd's going wild when she emerges, but only half of this appears to be the song. The rest of the attention is centered around a fight that's broken out near the back row. JANE observes this as if she's outside herself. Which she is, and she giggles, and then suddenly the wave of people are coming right at her *en masse*, a couple of crowd-surfers caught up in the wake, their bodies tumbling and collapsing --

She manages to dodge in time, stumbling and nearly falling, running along the narrowing gap between wall and crowd, finally making it to the stage. The mob nearly sweeps her up and then TRENT and DARIA are both grabbing her hands, yanking her up on stage to land in an awkwardly and intimately sprawled heap.

TRENT finally makes it to his feet and helps them both up. With a knowing look around at the rest of the band, who have frozen in place, he steps up to the microphone.

TRENT: Yo, everyone. Just because we don't finish our set, doesn't mean you get a refund.

For a moment, it looks like the crowd doesn't care. Then the entire back row grabs the two who apparently started the fight, shoving them out the door.

TRENT: Thanks.

He nods as the rest of the band look around at each other, verifying they're good to go.

TRENT: This is one of our oldest songs. It's one of our favorites. We hope it's one of yours.

He looks over to the wings where JANE and DARIA are standing, a few feet apart.

TRENT: It's called 'Freakin Friends'.

JANE and DARIA watch as the band launch into it. Behind them, QUINN holds court with a passel of roadies and stagehands. JANE pulls the bottle from her jacket, shakes her head and hands it to one of the roadies.

JD: These are his worst lyrics ever.

DJ: I think I agree with you. But only because I've managed to block out the memory of "Paingasm".

JD: Still.

DJ: It's the thought that counts?

JANE looks over at her own body, seeing DARIA in her eyes.

JD: You talk a pretty good game, Morgendorffer.

DJ (refusing to take the bait): Go on.

JD: But you also go the extra mile to walk what you talk. Most of the time.

DJ (slowly): I've...had moments I'm not exactly proud of.

JD: Welcome to the club, *amiga*.

DARIA is silent for a moment as TRENT tears into the second verse. Then she winces, realizing it's better to talk over these lyrics.

DJ: I'm not leaving you.

JANE looks surprised, then touched. DARIA seems embarrassed at her own honesty.

DJ: And yes, I'm perfectly aware of how that sounded.

JD: You and I must not read the same fan fiction.

DJ: I just thought you should know. (beat) No matter what happens. (shrugs) You're stuck with me.

JD: I can think of worse life sentences.

QUINN: God, you two! Get a room!

DJ (under her breath): You want to do the honors?

JD (also *sotto voce*): She means well.

DJ: You know who else meant well.

JD: Daria, you should know by now. You never go full Godwin.

QUINN (confused): Did you just call her 'Daria'?

JD: It's all part of our secret code. Not for the likes of mere mortals.

QUINN (snorting): Same as it ever was.

TRENT and the band continue to rock.

  


* * *

  


LANE HOUSE, after the show. JANE and DARIA disembark from the van as QUINN hops into the front seat with TRENT.

QUINN: You're sure you don't want any of these phone numbers?

JD: Why? I'm just gonna throw them out after my first college party.

QUINN: True. (turning to TRENT) Tell me more about how those guys are no good for me.

TRENT sends a brief and knowing glance at JANE-in-DARIA.

JD: Tell Mom I'll be back tomorrow. And we can have a family dinner together before I leave. If she insists.

DARIA gives JANE a suspicious look, then rolls her eyes, apparently deciding this is not a hill to die on. TRENT nods and pulls out, leaving our girls to stand on the sidewalk.

JD: So can I have the bed this time?

DJ: Only if you don't mind sharing.

JANE freezes. DARIA grabs her by the hand.

DJ: You're not going to get this very often.

JD: An actual music video?

DJ: More than that. This is me -- expressing my feelings.

JANE looks down at their hands.

DJ: And maybe we should go inside before I express any more.

JD (unsteady): Wow.

DJ (uncertain): Well -- let me know if I made a horrible mistake.

JANE looks up, momentarily confused.

JD: No. I mean -- no.

They stand looking at each other.

JD: And we should definitely go inside.

  


* * *

  


JANE'S BEDROOM. Our heroines have just shut the door and are regarding each other with a new sort of tension.

BOTH: So --

Falling silent.

BOTH: You first.

As one, they give a crooked smile.

JANE: So why now?

DARIA: Well -- it's not like I haven't thought about it before.

JANE: And we'll get into the when of that at some point, but -- why now?

DARIA looks down, running her fingers through her (JANE'S) short hair with an awkward expression.

DARIA: Because I guess I love you in a lot of ways. Including *that* way.

JANE: Go on.

DARIA: And even if a miracle happens and we switch back --

JANE: Ah ha!

DARIA: That is *not* why. I would much rather be in my own body, kissing *you*. But in the absence of normal, I'll take what I can get.

JANE (perfect deadpan Daria voice): Now there's a perfect pickup line.

DARIA (refusing to budge): I meant what I said. I'm not leaving you. Not unless you throw me out. 

JANE (weakening just a hair): You said something about kissing?

DARIA: Do you believe me?

JANE swallows, takes a deep breath and slowly nods.

JANE: I believe you.

DARIA: So what are you going to do about it?

JANE (not quite deadpan): Tell the tall person to sit down.

DARIA looks more suspicious than resentful as she complies. JANE moves forward, standing between DARIA'S legs, looking down at her.

JANE: And then I suppose I'll do this.

DARIA manages to keep her eyes open until the last second when their lips meet and her mouth opens in a quiet gasp. JANE is gently pushing her back, taking advantage of her superior position, growing bolder as DARIA returns her passion to the fullest. Between them the pendant slips free of her shirt on its chain, glowing a bright neon blue that flares almost to a blinding white before dying away to a dull nothing.

JANE and DARIA slowly pull away from each other and open their eyes. JANE takes in the sight of her best friend lying on top of her with disheveled hair and swollen lips; DARIA likewise gazing down at her formerly hetero life mate with a look of genuine affection combined with droll disdain.

JANE: Are you kidding me?

DARIA: Now there's a cliche I can get behind.

JANE (looking up, slightly shy): There's still time to spare my virtue.

DARIA rips off the pendant and hurls it away, determination in her eye as she hovers over JANE.

DARIA: This couldn't have come at a better time.

JANE (breath already growing shorter): I'll bet you say that to all the girls.

DARIA (growling, explorations growing more aggressive): And what do you say?

JANE: I say -- oh!

DARIA: You were saying?

JANE: I say... (mumbling) Bring it on...

  


* * *

  


Downstairs, TRENT comes in the front door, goes to head upstairs and stops with his foot on the first stair, cocking his head. A smile creeps across his face and he turns and heads for the door to the basement. A moment later, the power chords of "Icebox Woman" drift up from below.

  


* * *

  


TRAIN STATION, two days later. JANE is watching DARIA say her goodbyes to her mother and sister, QUINN having gotten over any lingering resentment thanks to whatever conversation she managed to wrangle out of TRENT. HELEN kisses her daughter on the cheek and beams as QUINN hugs DARIA, who returns the gesture in as awkward a fashion as ever.

JANE watches QUINN driving home crucial fashion tips, then leans over to HELEN.

JANE: Just so you know, I'm probably going to marry your daughter.

HELEN gives a discreet cough but recovers admirably quickly.

HELEN: I do hope you'll take your family planning advice from a reputable firm.

JANE: Is there any other kind?

HELEN: I mean it. Tax advice is nothing to play around with. You let me know the minute you need anything more than a W-4. I'll set you right up with a consult.

JANE (grinning and giving into the impulse): Thanks, Mom.

HELEN shakes her head, but she's smiling as she heads back to the car. QUINN waves to JANE and does likewise.

JANE: I kind of gave us away there at the end.

DARIA: I think she suspected already.

JANE: I think she's suspected for years.

DARIA (snorts): Give her *some* credit.

JANE: So.

DARIA: So...

JANE punches her lightly in the arm, breaking the tension.

JANE: The hard part's over, Daria.

DARIA (unwilling to fully concede): You think?

JANE: Unless you meet some hot chick at a sorority bash and go all Greek on me.

DARIA: You always did paint the most vivid imagery. (shuddering briefly) I'm glad this time it wasn't literal.

JANE: Don't worry. I'll release all my porn under a pen name.

DARIA allows herself to be hugged again, tentatively returning the gesture before relaxing into it, just enjoying it. JANE pulls away with a twinkle in her eye.

JANE: See you soon.

DARIA: Yeah.

From the platform, JANE watches her friend's train pulling out of the station. She watches until the last car has fully left the yard, the sound of the wheels fading in the distance. A tiny smile plays at her lips as she contemplates the unknown ahead.

JANE: See you soon.

Whistling off key, she heads for the car as the camera pulls back and rises over LAWNDALE.

HELEN (voiceover): Have you eaten yet, dear?

JANE (voiceover): Eh...I could eat.

QUINN (voiceover, disgusted): At least *some* of us can.

JANE (VO): You could stand to eat more.

QUINN (VO): Eww!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original concept from 2002, when I wrote it up to Jane wandering the streets. At which point it sat around for sixteen years until I felt sufficiently motivated. Originally intended as a crossover, I abandoned that aspect and just let the Macguffin do its work.


End file.
